You Don't Know Jack
by elektralyte
Summary: Possible SPOILER, Season 2, ep.1. What if the Jack that boarded Oceanic Airline Flight 815 wasn't Jack Sheppard? A familiar scene with a different face...
1. Chapter 1

**You Don't Know Jack**

by Elektra

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I write for fun, not profit and Lost is owned by ABC,

Disney and Bad Robot, not me.

_Summary: What if the Jack that boarded Oceanic Airline Flight 815 wasn't Jack Sheppard? A familiar scene takes on a more sinister tone... _

He soaks in the chaos with obscene glee. Miniature acts of heroism, cowardice and confusion play out around the man. As much as he is enjoys the surrounding apocalypse he needs a moment to himself to take care of his wound. He spies a suitcase and ransacks it for useful items.

As he makes his way to a more isolated spot he wonders if he can take advantage of the pandemonium. He finds a place to kneel down and sets out the sewing kit he managed to find.

A young woman walks by, too dazed to register the presence of the half naked, bleeding man.

"Excuse me," He calls out, trying to get her attention. "Did you ever use a needle?"

She sees him for the first time. "What?" She asks warily.

"Did you ever...patch a pair of jeans?" He asks. It seems like a non-sequitur.

"I, um, I made the drapes in my apartment."

"That's fantastic. Listen, do you have a second? I could use a little help here."

She walks over to him.

"Help with what?"

The man shows her the wound, and she grimaces.

Seeing her reaction he explains, "Look, I'd do it myself, I'm a doctor, but I just can't reach it."

"You want me to sew that up?" She exclaims, a bit horrified.

"It's just like the drapes, same thing," he insists with slight impatience.

" No, with the drapes I used a sewing machine," she refutes.

"No, you can do this. I'm telling you," he demands, then he backs off. "If you wouldn't mind," asks a little more gently.

He sees her hesitate and thinks, 'Stupid witch! Give me a hand already!'

A familiar feeling begins to surface within him. One that reminds why he hates women. He pushes the negative emotions down and casts her a pleading look.

For a moment, she sees something in his eyes, but it could be a trick of the light.

"Of course I will," the woman finally replies.

"Thank you." He hands her the little liquor bottle from his pocket. He fears she won't take it.

"It's for your hands." When she gives him a skeptical look he adds, "Save me some for the, for the wound."

She hesitates, then takes a swig. The liquid burns all too quickly down her throat.

Picking up the little sewing kit she asks, "any color preference?"

Laughing, he answers, "standard black." He then pretends to dump the vodka on his wound.

The woman begins sewing up the doctor's side. As she proceeds a wave of dizziness passes over her.

"I might throw up on you," she explains, a bit nervously. The light headed feeling was getting stronger and she was afraid of passing out.

He shakes his head. "You're doing fine a, um, what's your name?"

"K-Kate," she answers, wiping sweat away from her forehead with a shaky hand.

"Kate," he repeats. He remembers a Kate from his past. Kate Eddowes was her name. There was a Kate, and a Mary, and an Annie, and an Elizabeth and someone else whose name escapes him at the moment.

"My name is George, George Chapman," he offers.

"George," she breathes out, shakily. "You have a slight accent. Are you from Australia?"

"No, but I lived in England for a time. In a place called Whitechapel. I guess I picked up a little accent there."

George stares at her as if trying to gage some sort of reaction. The name Whitechapel sounds familiar, but she can't place it at the moment.

"There's something really off about this situation," Kate thinks.

Her normally fine-tuned instincts were way off right now, probably a result of the crash and the tumultuous events that preceded it. Her thoughts become disjointed and she really wants to lay down but she's nearly finished with the task at hand.

Struggling to fill the silence she comments, "you don't seem afraid at all. I don't understand that."

George seems to ponder this, then says, "well, fear's sort of an odd thing. When you live with it as long as I have, you begin to like it..."

'What a strange thing to say,' she thinks. Then her vision begins two double and his voice fades, in and out. Her fingers slowly let go of the needle and she watches it swing back and forth, still on the thread that pokes from his skin.

"and that is why I kill women like you," he finishes.

"What? NOOOOOOO," she cries out, only he's covering her mouth with his hand.

She tries to rise, but she is being forced backwards, rather easily.

"Shhhhh. You're not running now Kate, or ever," he whispers.

He uncovers her mouth and with her fading vision she sees him pull a knife from behind him. 'Where did that come from?' She wonders.

"Why...G-george?" she manages to spit out.

"Why _George_?" He repeats, mockingly.

"Don't call me George, Katie. Call me by my real name," He demands as he brings the knife to her throat.

"Call me...Jack."

The End

_A/N: So. What do you think? I'm thinking of continuing with a different Jack each chapter, but only if I get, you know, positive response. - Elektra_


	2. Chapter 2

**You Don't Know Jack II**

By Elektra

Rating: T

_Summary: What if the Jack that boarded Oceanic Airline Flight 815_

_wasn't Jack Sheppard? A familiar scene with a different face…_

For once, she is the pursuer and not the quarry. He moves like a shadow constantly darting out of her sight.

'For an old guy he's in really good shape.' Kate thinks as she spots the back of his gray head.

Kate breaks through the thicket and sees him standing still. He holds out something for her to see, a piece of white tape with the letter "T" marked on it.

"Charlie might not be the one leaving them." Kate remarks. "If Ethan knows that we're behind him, he could be setting up a dummy trail. Take off in one direction, double-back on his own footprints."

Jack nods with approval at her assessment. The same thought occurs to him but he's committed to this direction. Besides, Locke is checking out the other trail. Not that Jack believes that wannabe Walter Mitty will find anything, but you won't hear him saying anything about it.

Instead, he focuses on his favorite little outlaw and says, "You're just full of surprises. So where did you pick up the tracking skills, Kate? Was that before or after you were on the run?"

"I'm trying to help Jack," she answers, some what annoyed.

"You know what might help?" He continues, "A little honesty. Just give me something real, anything."

"You remind me of my dad sometimes." She begins.

'What everyman wants to hear from a woman,' Jack thinks sourly.

"He was in the army. Ranger Battalion. We were stationed in Fort Lewis, Washington State. We'd go hiking together. One day we spent eight hours tracking deer. Being in the woods, it was like, it was like his religion."

"That was real." She adds. Leaning in a bit she asks, "Anything you want to share…soldier?"

'Oh, she's good,' he thinks.

Suddenly, he jerks his head in one direction. Something catches his attention, a noise that he alone can hear perhaps. Only her years of being on the run gives Kate the skills she needs to keep up with him. Rain begins to pour, making things worse.

"Jack, where are you going? Jack?" He disappears again.

Kate frantically searches for clues to where he went but she may have lost him for good this time. Time passes slowly as the rain makes it nearly impossible to find her way. She trips on something hard and turns her head around to get a good look at it. Kate barely manages to stifle a scream as she looks into a pair of dead eyes.

"OH MY GOD! OHMYGOD!" she screams.

She pushes down panic that threatens to overwhelm her and forces herself to crawl over to the body. Tentatively, she checks for a neck pulse. There is a sickening looseness and she realizes his neck has been broken.

'He's dead. Jack killed him. Jack killed Ethan. Why did Jack kill Ethan?' She wonders.

She knows though. Kate is no stranger to violence or death and the one thing she's sure of when she looks into Ethan's surprised dead eyes is that he has underestimated Jack.

Kate gets up on shaky legs and begins again to look for Jack. The rain stops suddenly and she hears him cry out, "CHARLIE!"

She runs towards the voice and finds him standing almost on his toes. In his arms is what is surely the dead body of Charlie. A rope holds the younger man up, tautly by the neck.

"You've got to cut him down!" He shouts.

Without a word Kate starts climbing a tree.

"Hold on Charlie, hold on there," he pleads.

Kate pulls a knife out and tries sawing at the rope. "I can't reach," she shouts. "Pull him over to me!"

Finally she cuts him down. Jack immediately begins CPR.

"He's not breathing. C'mon breathe, Charlie. C'mon, breathe. C'mon," He chants.

Kate starts crying, call out Jack's name over and over, as if to halt the madness that is starting to take over.

"C'mon. C'mon."

"Jack, Jack stop, he's not..."

Jack stops, stricken with anguish. Kate comes over to console him.

"It's okay, it's okay."

Jack pushes her away. "No, no! Not this time! I'm not going to lose Charlie again!"

"Jack, Jack," she plead, once more trying to stop him.

Jack starts thumping Charlie's chest again. "C'mon. C'mon."

Suddenly, Charlie gasps and begins to breathe.

"Breathe deep, breathe deep. You're okay," Jack murmurs.

Darkness has fallen and everyone sits at the campfire quietly going over the calamitous events of the day. All except Boone and Locke who are probably still searching for Claire and Charlie who has fallen completely silent.

Kate watches Jack's frustrated attempts to get Charlie to open up. The broken man stares into the fire either unaware or deliberately ignoring the other man. Finally, Charlie mutters something, but the disturbed look on Jack's face tells Kate that it wasn't what he was hoping to hear.

Jack stands up to leave. Kate sees that his knee is bothering him from all the stress he's put on it. She also sees something in his eyes that she's never seen before. There's an undeserved hurt there, a defeat she sees that tears into her heart.

He limps away, shoulders stooped in dejection and she darts her way up the path to catch him. Gently, she grasps his arm to get his attention. Jack whips around to face her, challenging her with those hard, dark eyes of his.

As fearsome as that gaze is, she doesn't back down. Instead she explains in a steady voice, "let him be, Jack. He needs time."

She watches the change in his eyes and sees the pain ebb away leaving only heavy longing. Her hand trails down his arm and grasps his hand. She gives it a tiny squeeze and pleads, "Just give him a little time. He'll come back to us."

She doesn't so much hear his sigh as feel it. He squeezes her hand; a gesture of concession, then lets it go. The corner of his mouth forms something less than a smile and he replies, "Yeah, sure. You betcha."

The End

Disclaimer: I write for fun, not profit and ABC, Disney and Bad Robot, own 'Lost', not me. The SciFi Channel, ShowTime and Gekko Film Corp own Stargate: SG1.

A/N: Finally, an update! Sorry it took so long. These stories are harder to write than I first imagined. As for this chapter, I've rewritten it many times and finally decided that if I didn't post it now, I would never post it.

**Imzadi:** I've been trying to write one with Jack Bauer but it's coming along slowly. The next chapter is a bit on the silly side, I hope no one minds…

**Lady:** I'm not familiar with Profiler's Jack, but I will check him out. Thanks for the kind review and as you can see I'm definitely continuing.

**Jack the Ripperologist:** So, Tumblety? Or Barnett? Your guess is probably better than mine…

Do I think Oceanic Flight 815 is a time machine? After watching the 1st and 2nd episodes of the new season, I've decided 815 is more a great big coincidence machine, but we'll see soon enough I hope!

Thank you all for the reviews and please come back for more.


	3. Chapter 3

**You Don't Know Jack III**

By Elektra

Rating: T

Spoilers: Season#2, ep#1. Please watch first before reading this.

_Summary: What if the Jack that boarded Oceanic Airline Flight 815 wasn't Jack Sheppard? A familiar scene from Hurley's POV…_

Dude. Jack's the man. I mean, at first he freaked me out because of the big round head, but I'm cool with it now. I mean, I thought I was back in the hospital for a second, but I just play it off now.

And you know how everyone acts like Locke is all great because he can hunt and kill boars? Dude, Jack, like took the meat, and he made them into Ciabatta BBQ PorkTM sandwiches and sold them to us for only $1.29 a piece.

For that alone I will follow him through the gates of hell and back.

But I won't follow him down that hatch, partly because, with my size and his big head one of us is getting stuck. Mostly though, it's because of the numbers. Those cursed numbers keep coming back to haunt me and I'm going anywhere but near there, dude.

Jack kind of pissed me off though. He wanted to know why I was scared of them and I said he'd think I was crazy. But he's like, "no, I won't". And I'm like, "Okay, dude."

So I like, tell him everything dude. And then, he stares at me with his blue-eyed dots and he's not smiling. And all he can say is, "you were in a mental ward?"

And I'm all like, "that's all you can say?"

And he's like, "what else is there to say?"

Like he doesn't have a giant clown head? Whatever. That really sucked, but he gave a free antenna ball so I'm cool with it now.

But I still won't go near that hatch.

The End

Disclaimer: I write for fun, not profit and ABC, Disney and Bad Robot, own 'Lost', not me. Jack I. Box owned by Jack in the Box.

A/N: I wrote this for my brother who likes Jack from Jack in the Box and my son who is obsessed with the word Ciabatta. Just so you know, no Jack is off limits as long as _I know that Jack_. (Except for real people named Jack as per regs)


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